Why Can’t I Just Chill? (And What My Friend's Sabbath Comment Taught Me About It)

I can’t sit still.

There. I said it.

If productivity were a drug, I’d be halfway through a 12-step program-relapsing regularly. Even when I try to rest, I end up “accidentally” sorting emails or mapping out chapter ideas in my Notes app. And when someone says, “You need to take a break,” I smile politely while mentally reorganizing my week to squeeze in a few more hours of output.

I haven’t blogged in a while, not because I don’t have anything to say, but because I’m writing a book. A real one. Chapters, edits, rewrites, voice memos to myself at 2am. I’m also working on a podcast project (or maybe three, depending on how you count them). Then there's the full-time job, the career upskilling courses I keep enrolling in, the dream of launching my own consulting business-someday. All while managing the endless carousel of adulting: bills, groceries, check-ins with people I love but barely see, the existential weight of laundry.

And then today, a friend looked at me gently and said:

“You need a Sabbath.”

Not everything needs to be earned. Some things—like rest—are sacred.

It wasn’t said as a rebuke. No judgment. Just love.

And something in me finally cracked open.

The High of Hustle and the Haunting of Stillness

Let me be honest: accomplishing things feels good. It’s validating. Tangible. Safe.

Because if I’m building something-writing, learning, planning, producing-then I have purpose. I have proof that I’m not wasting time, not falling behind, not being lazy. In a world that worships the grind, being busy isn’t just acceptable-it’s honorable. We wear our hustle like armor.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth I’m starting to confront:

I don’t know how to relax… because deep down, I’m scared of what silence might reveal.

When I stop doing, I have to sit with who I am-outside of output. Outside of applause. Outside of the identity I’ve crafted through effort.

And sometimes, that feels… a little too raw.

When the Sabbath Becomes a Threat

I grew up thinking Sabbath was just a Sunday thing. A religious routine. A church service followed by a nap and maybe a roast in the oven. But what my friend meant wasn’t just rest in the “put your feet up” kind of way.

He meant a sacred pause. The kind that reminds you that your worth is not in your work. That your soul, your breath, your being-they matter even when your to-do list isn’t shrinking.

And if I’m being really real, that kind of pause terrifies me. Because for years, I’ve trained myself to associate rest with guilt. If I’m not producing, I’m losing ground. Falling behind. Wasting potential.

Sound familiar?

I know I’m not alone in this. Most of us were raised in a world where “grind culture” is normalized, even glamorized. We're encouraged to optimize every waking minute. Rest is something you earn, not something you’re entitled to as a human being.

But at what cost?

We’re exhausted. Spiritually malnourished. Functioning but not flourishing. Creative but not connected.

The Irony of the Dream

Here’s the kicker: everything I’m working so hard to build-my book, my podcast, my business, my better future-it’s all rooted in the desire to live a more authentic, purposeful, free life.

But what if the very hustle to get there is stealing the freedom I crave?

What if the book would be better if I slowed down enough to hear myself think?

What if the podcast would hit harder if I actually had time to breathe between ideas?

What if the business won’t be sustainable if it’s born from burnout?

What if the future I want demands a different pace now?

Permission to Pause

I’m starting to believe that honoring a Sabbath; whether it’s a day, an hour, a boundary, or a breath—isn’t a luxury or a sign of weakness.

It’s an act of resistance.

In a culture that demands constant motion, choosing rest is radical.

It says, “I trust there’s enough time.”“I trust I am enough.”“I don’t have to earn peace-I can choose it.”

And I know this isn’t easy. Especially for folks like me (and maybe you) who have big visions and big responsibilities. Rest feels like a betrayal. Like slowing down might cause everything to fall apart.

But what if rest is actually what holds it all together?

Relearning How to Be

So here’s what I’m practicing. Not perfectly. Not even consistently. But intentionally:

• I’m letting some things be undone. Not everything needs to be finished today.

• I’m scheduling rest like I would any other appointment. Because otherwise, it doesn’t happen.

• I’m redefining success-not just as what I achieve, but how grounded I feel in the process.

• I’m letting go of the myth that rest is for later. It’s for now. For always.

And most importantly, I’m reminding myself that rest isn’t the opposite of productivity. It’s the soil where creativity and clarity actually grow.

If you’re reading this and feeling that subtle, guilty ache in your chest—like you’re always behind, always striving, always “on” let this be your permission slip.

Take your Sabbath.

Not because you’ve earned it. Not because everything is done.

But because you matter, even when you’re still.

Maybe that’s where the real work begins.

What’s one thing you can say no to this week to say yes to rest? Hit pause for five minutes; journal, pray, breathe, walk, whatever helps you reconnect. And if this spoke to you, share it with someone who needs the reminder: you are not a machine. You’re a masterpiece in motion. And even masterpieces need to rest.